Sex
Made women
"The Sopranos" deals with female emotional and sexual desire better than any other show on TV.
Rape. Murder. Bitch-slapping. This season, “The Sopranos” has shocked regular viewers by sharply ratcheting up the violence against women.
But this savagery underlines one of the show’s strengths. Unlike Francis Coppola’s “Godfather” epics or Martin Scorsese’s “GoodFellas” and “Casino,” David Chase’s “The Sopranos” deals brutally and honestly with the relationship between men and women. And it paints the female characters just as vividly as the male ones.
Sure, “The Sopranos” is mainly about New Jersey Mafia men. But it’s just as much about the women trying to live with these men. While the men go about their business on the mean streets, the women are at home, in restaurants, at school or at Bada Bing! trying to be gladiators (gladiatrixes?) in their own right.
But as the film “Gladiator” (which has replaced “Godfather” as the series’ cinematic touchstone this season) tells us, survival comes through sticking together against a powerful enemy. And the men in “The Sopranos” have had more practice at this. They work together based on the last remnants of the Mafia code: Don’t rat, don’t mess with another made man and stay loyal to a good leader until he proves otherwise. Paulie, Silvio, Furio and Christopher do what Tony Soprano needs from them and they respect, obey and protect him. They move as a unit.
The women have a harder time; there is less opportunity to stick together. Tough Carmela, the soul of the show along with her husband Tony, is alone in the world except when everyone gathers around her dinner table. She gets her daughter’s love occasionally — when Meadow has been chased out of her college dorm room by a psychotic roomie or needs new clothes. And she gets disdain from the neighbor women, who fear her husband. And then there’s restaurateur Artie Bucco’s wife — who is an old “pal,” but in one episode lets slip quite wickedly that she had sex with Tony one time long ago when he and Carmela had broken up. Ouch.
But Carmela is a survivor and has her own gladiatrix version of the strength and honor code. She is of the old school — she married and sticks by a man she loves and still has the hots for (last season’s mink coat episode showed that), but she also knows she has made a pact with the devil. Her hubby kills guys and screws a Russian mistress and gets blow jobs from the dancers at the Bada Bing! at least once a week. Yet he usually shows up for dinner — and Carmela will continue making his pasta as long as Tony shows up. She knows it and he knows it. They have a marital contract that is often strained, but has deep practical underpinnings. Carmela knows that Tony delivers the goods. (In last night’s show, Tony doesn’t show for dinner and Carm ends up at a shrink of her own, who tells her she should leave him. It’s not certain what Carm will ultimately decide to do, but in the meantime, she uses her emotional leverage with her husband to squeeze $50K out of him for Columbia’s building fund — her way of cleansing the family name.)
Though Tony is the philanderer, Carmela is arguably the less faithful of the two: She strays emotionally. She swoons for the priest and the wallpaper guy, and the fact that she makes baked ziti for the priest is in some ways more of a betrayal of her marriage than the kiss she has in the powder room with Mr. Wallpaper. She cooked for someone else! (She was planning to cook for wallpaper man until he came to the wise realization that cuckolding Tony Soprano might not be a life-affirming decision and quickly disappeared.) Carmela is searching for what all women want — a man who appreciates and craves both the nurturing and the sexual aspects of her personality.
On the other end of the spectrum are the man-eaters — Tony’s mom, Livia (now dead), and his sister, Janice. These two gals, who both had to figure out how to make their way in a male-dominated household, both turned into borderline personality disorder cases with homicidal tendencies. Not only did they not stick together to help other women in the family, they self-destructed after attacking their men. They were a dangerous duo, having decided that the only way to survive was to be even meaner than their protectors/slave owners by half. They resented not having power, so they went one step beyond and broke all the rules the men try to follow. Not only were they capable of murder, but also infanticide and fratricide. They were a lethal mix of the men’s business-like cruelty and their own manipulative insecurity.
The younger women (Christopher’s fiancée, Adriana, and Tony’s daughter, Meadow) still have a chance to succeed where Livia and Janice failed. They both have strength, will and a vision for their lives that includes a career and a passionate partnership with a man. Adriana tries to help Christopher with his writing and acting attempts; she stands by him and also tells him the truth when he messes up. But the underlying bond between them is sex and power. Each exudes both, so it’s an even match.
Meadow, now at Columbia, is her father’s daughter; nothing gets by her. And, like her mother, she is looking for love. But so far she’s looking in the wrong place. Her college boyfriend, Noah, won her over with his intelligence and apparent sensitivity. But he revealed himself as a manipulative egomaniac, dumping her after taking her virginity (and after she tells his name-dropping Hollywood agent father that her dad is in “waste management”). Meadow comes out the stronger of the two, her eyes getting that don’t-mess-with-me Tony look when Noah lies to her. This gal will turn out like her grandmother unless she gets some real affection.
Meadow will have a tough time finding it. She is a practical romantic the way Tony is — she believes in love but has her eyes open the whole time she’s making it, in case someone is nearby with a gun. She’s also a woman, not a girl. Adriana, in contrast, is a girl who wants her man to take care of her; she’d rather not work as a restaurant hostess (though one can imagine her with her own business). Meadow will need a man to match her in strength and honor if she is ever going to truly give it up.
The women who give up the most are at opposite ends of the social spectrum. Tracee, the sweet-but-dumb dancer at Bada Bing!, dies at the hands of the man she naively thought would protect her. Ralph (this season’s hair-triggered Richie Aprile), the man who runs around quoting “Gladiator” about how our actions on this earth will echo through time, beats Tracee to death after she insults him in front of his fellow made men and then stands up to his verbal cruelty.
Dr. Melfi, Tony’s therapist, isn’t killed, but her soul is mauled when she is raped. In her character we see the dilemma that faces most of the women in the series. At first she believes in the system — the police capture her assailant and she admonishes her husband and son for losing their tempers. Then, when her attacker is let go on a technicality, she loses her sense of reality and we see her yearn for the clear revenge that only Tony could give her. She loves her “civilized” Italian-American husband but knows that he can’t do what his instincts tell him to because it’s not right. Tony would do it in a heartbeat, like the snarling Rottweiler in her dreams, because in his world avenging a wronged woman is right. It’s his job to do it.
When we see Dr. Melfi’s face at the end of the rape episode, we see the agony of “The Sopranos” women etched clearly in her contorted features. Will she ask one man to avenge the outrage committed by another? She is smart enough to know that once she does ask, she will have made a pact for life with Tony. Maybe she should ask Carmela what to do.
Karen Croft is the editor of Salon Sex. More Karen Croft.
Massage therapists rubbed wrong by sex talk
A Jennifer Love Hewitt show and the Travolta allegations have masseuses tired of being confused for sex workers
(Credit: iStockphoto/sybanto) Joe, a licensed massage therapist, knows what it’s like having a famous client who expects something extra. He had an Academy Award-winning actor begin gyrating on his massage table before raising his hips in the air to show off his erection. “He was hoping that I would play with him in some shape or form,” he says.
Needless to say, Joe isn’t surprised by allegations by two masseurs that John Travolta got handsy during massages. (Travolta’s attorney has denied all the allegations, and called them “ridiculous.”) “It happens all the time,” he says, and not just with celebrity clients. He frequently encounters men who try to fondle him, usually while he’s working on their glutes or lower back and their hand happens to be level with his crotch. “They think they’re so original, but they’re all so much the same,” Joe says, his voice rising. “They all use the same tactics, the same body movements, the same gyrations and grinding my table, the [heavy] breathing.”
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Tracy Clark-Flory is a staff writer at Salon. Follow @tracyclarkflory on Twitter. More Tracy Clark-Flory.
A night at the vibrator museum
Early vibrators were hand-cranked, two-person jobs -- and prescribed by doctors. How far we've come since then
(Credit: Antique Vibrator Museum) I can now say that I’ve used a turn-of-the-century vibrator — on my hand, but still.
The silver, hand-cranked contraption is usually kept behind glass at Good Vibrations’ Antique Vibrator Museum in San Francisco — but staff sexologist Carol Queen made a rare exception. “This is very special,” she whispered, unlocking the case and carefully pulling out Dr. Johansen’s Auto Vibrator, a relic from 1904. The “auto” part is not so much: It was a two-person job, with her having to crank the device’s handle to get it thrumming. Pressing my finger tips to its inch-wide circular platform of pleasure, I was pleasantly surprised by its power.
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Tracy Clark-Flory is a staff writer at Salon. Follow @tracyclarkflory on Twitter. More Tracy Clark-Flory.
Maggie Gyllenhaal on sexual liberation
The beloved indie star tells Salon about her "vibrator movie" and why she loves playing transgressive women
Maggie Gyllenhaal (Credit: Reuters/Mark Blinch) When I met Maggie Gyllenhaal about six weeks ago, she was enormously and gloriously pregnant, stretching out on a sofa with her shoes off and feet up in a Manhattan office building. (Since that time, Gyllenhaal and husband Peter Sarsgaard have welcomed their second daughter, Gloria Ray, to the world.) We were there to talk about “Hysteria,” the charming, lightweight feminist farce from director Tanya Wexler that explores a key event in the history of female sexuality: the invention of the vibrator by Mortimer Granville, a Victorian doctor who was seeking to cure the mysterious “female malady” that lends the movie its title.
Continue Reading CloseMother-daughter sexperts
Susie Bright and her daughter, Aretha, make parental talks about sex look easy -- and fun
Most parents loathe talking to their kids about the birds and the bees, let alone pubic hair grooming, faked orgasms and “water sports” — but most parents are not legendary “sexpert” Susie Bright.
Better than talking about these things, she penned an advice column in 2009 with her daughter, Aretha, then 19, for the ladyblog Jezebel. Their answers to questions about everything from porn to Paxil were unflinching but playful, and at times controversial. Now the pair have collected those columns into a new e-book, “Mother/Daughter Sex Advice.” Together, they read as an irreverent version of “Our Bodies, Ourselves” for the Internet age. The mother-daughter team also reflect on what the experience of writing the column was like, and it turns out it wasn’t as weird as many would think: For the most part, it was just a continuation of conversations they had been having throughout Aretha’s life.
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Tracy Clark-Flory is a staff writer at Salon. Follow @tracyclarkflory on Twitter. More Tracy Clark-Flory.
On the rack: A cultural history of breasts
Did breasts evolve for lactation or to enhance sex appeal? A new book explores why they matter
(Credit: iStockphoto/NadyaPhoto) It’s hard to be boobs. Sure, breasts are cherished as givers of milk and the pinnacle of sex appeal, but the modern world hasn’t been good to mammaries.
As Florence Williams writes in “Breasts: A Natural and Unnatural History,” they’re the most tumor-prone organ in the human body. They “soak up pollution like a pair of soft sponges,” and transmit environmental toxins to babies through breast milk. “Breasts are bellwethers for the changing health of people,” she says. While we’ve “genetically modified our crops to be able to protect them from the ill effects of pesticides,” Williams writes, “we haven’t yet figured out how to modify our breasts.” Aside from using saline and silicone, of course.
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Tracy Clark-Flory is a staff writer at Salon. Follow @tracyclarkflory on Twitter. More Tracy Clark-Flory.
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